


that constant sting (they call love)

by stilinskitrash



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Eventual Smut, F/M, Reader-Insert, Self-Insert, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Some Fluff, Unrequited Crush, reader was in the red room but it isnt background heavy, tags to be added as I update, they live at the compound big happy family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-09-28
Packaged: 2019-05-28 02:30:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15038696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stilinskitrash/pseuds/stilinskitrash
Summary: By the time the song had finished, you were pressed flush against his chest, little room having been left. Bucky was stood close enough that the ends of his hair tickled your cheek. The change in music broke the spell, and you pulled away with a sudden push that meant Bucky’s arms were momentarily left holding the air.He stared at you wordlessly, arms falling to his side.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hellooo !! this is my first reader insert even tho ive been writing fanfic since 2013 so i hope it's okay! i have chapters 1-9 done but will probably be updating regularly hopefully but idk as im never satisfied with my work lmao but hopefully updates will be consistent!  
> dedicated to my lovely beta Olivia<33 thanks for putting up with my shit

When Steve entered a room, you wondered how anyone could tear their eyes away from him. Suit clad, well groomed and smiling as if at complete ease, the super soldier was a vision who’d effortlessly retained his 40s charm. Seeing him in situations like Tony’s party only enhanced the strain you felt slowly overwhelming your friendship, and your eyes locked on his form as he so naturally conversed with the guests.

“Tissue?” A voice from behind made you jump, and you whirled around to see Sam with a smirk painted across his lips.

You narrowed your eyes, switching quickly into a relaxed and nonchalant demeanour. “What for?”

Sam’s gaze flickered momentarily to an occupied Steve behind you, who was now being swarmed by a hoard of adoring fans, full of big smiles and high pitched tones. “For all the drooling you’re doing.”

Words failed you momentarily, your mouth clamping shut tightly as Sam’s laughter lines creased at your reaction.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” You dismissed, forcing a smile and rolling your eyes, as if it weren’t too late to be seen right through. Alcohol always lowered your guard, which was why you only ever felt comfortable drinking around people you knew well.

Was it you, or was it getting warmer? You shifted your weight, fidgeting as you stole a glance at Steve chatting to a pretty brunette. She was laughing, hands lightly hitting Steve’s arm as if he’d said the funniest thing in the world. Deadpan, you turned back to Sam. “I need a drink.”

“Yeah, you do.” He grinned, slapping a hand to your back to guide you towards the bar.

Nat was sat at the bar, chatting up one of Tony’s guests who you recognised as a wealthy businessman from Manhattan. He seemed enraptured, hanging off Nat’s every word, and you knew she was playing a game. You’d known Nat long enough to differentiate her genuine interest from acting, you just wondered what her angle was with this guy.

Your approach shifted her attention, and she smiled wickedly as Sam brought you over next to where they were sitting. He ordered you both the same drink, but you were too busy making silent conversation with Nat to catch what it was. She was looking at you with concern, an eyebrow quirked in an unspoken question. _Is everything okay?_

A half smile was the best you could manage, nodding stiffly as the barman set down a cocktail glass before you.

“Hey– Hey!” Sam punched your shoulder lightly, “I know you and Natasha have some freaky psychic bond shit, but don’t leave me out of it. What’s up? Like, really.”

You swirled the drink around absently, shaking your head, “nothing, Sam. Let me just drink until my head’s dizzy, will you?”

He couldn’t help but smile at that, not one to deny someone a little alcohol induced fun. “Right, but I’m keeping an eye on you, Y/L/N.” Sam took a swig of his drink, almost finishing it in one go. You nodded noncommittally and followed suit, soon enough practically stacking up the empty glasses as you and Sam burned your way through a selection of cocktails and liqueurs.

You didn’t usually mean to get so drunk; years of relying on keen sense and being alert meant drinking had only recently ever been for leisure. Letting go was an unbelievably sweet feeling, especially around people you'd learnt (slowly) you could trust. The DJ Tony had hired played an old R&B song you’d always loved and suddenly you were convincing Wanda to hit the dance floor with you. You were doing shots with Maria, drinking games with Clint, heated debates about fast food chains and sports games with Rhodey.

Steve was keeping a close eye on you. He wasn’t as slick as he might’ve thought he was, and you didn’t miss his eyes latching onto you as Clint steadied you against the sofa, or Wanda looped an arm around you to keep you from tripping over. You knew he was looking out for you, like the caring, ironically oblivious, all-American hero he genuinely was. But your bitterness over his lack of interaction wounded you further and further up until you were collapsing onto the sofa beside a cuddled up Tony and Pepper.

“Hey, can we get Y/N some water please?” Tony called, gesturing to a member of his staff as your head lulled against his shoulder.

“Don’t need water,” you yawned, kicking off your heels and resting your feet on the coffee table.

“Yeah,” he scoffed as a woman handed him a clear glass, “I think you need sleep. Bionic man, little help?”

You snorted drunkenly, “ _Bionic man?_ I don’t know any bionic men. Oh, wait! Like Iron Man? Are you changing your superhero name? I always said–”

A figure loomed over you, casting a dark shadow and clutching your discarded heels in his– _oh_. The metal of his arm groaned quietly as he held the shoes tighter, his eyes fixed tersely on you.

“The Winter Soldier,” you sighed, trying to push yourself up off the sofa, “where’s the rest of your squad?”

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed.

“You know, summer, spring, autumn-”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yeah, cause no one’s made that joke before.” You only laughed, intoxicated hysteria making practically anything funny.

“I thought Nat was supposed to look after her.” Bucky looked through you to Tony, who raised his hands in defence.

“Have _you_ tried controlling her? Romanoff does the best job, but she’s not her handler, Barnes. Y/N is an adult, her mistakes are her own. Just take her to her room, will you?”

Bucky’s shoulders tensed, but in one swift movement he’d swept you into his arms. You shrieked as your feet left the air, and if you’d have been more sober he’d have probably received a punch to the nose for setting a hand on you, but you’d mark him down one for later.

You passed Steve whose forehead was creased with concern, but was too polite to break from his current conversations. _Stupid Steve_ , you cursed in your head, _stupid attractive Steve, stupid caring nice Steve._

Living quarters were on the lower floor of the Avengers base. Yours were next door to Nat’s, who rarely slept in hers the few times she stayed at the compound longer than a couple of days. Bucky set you back down on the floor, and your head instantly began to spin as he propped you up against his side to scan your hand for entry to your room. . He smelled like Steve, you noted suddenly, figuring it wasn’t really that strange that the two of them may share aftershave. It was a comforting smell, one you found yourself leaning into until your cheek was snuggled against the fabric of Bucky’s shirt.

“I’m gonna get you into bed now, okay doll?” His voice was so much gentler than it had been at the party, and he used his flesh arm to guide you towards the bed you’d left unmade that morning. It almost didn’t feel like the Bucky you knew – granted, quite little of – was in the room with you now, but a Bucky less tainted by his past.

He pushed back your covers before you slid onto the sheet, still dressed to the nines but your eyelids already heavily weighing down on you.

“Barnes,” you yawned, scrunching your nose, “stay with me?”

Bucky didn’t move, his arms tight by his side as you stared up at him with wide eyes. Too long passed; he neither made for the door nor complied with your invitation. The air between you was thick with drunken lethargy and hesitation.

“Bucky?”

His name from your mouth stirred him awake, his brow furrowing as he turned away from you and headed for the door. Part of you felt disappointed, wanting company in your vulnerable state, but you couldn’t force Bucky to do anything, that much was always clear. He switched off the light on his way out, careful to shut the door without making much noise.

Wrapping yourself up in the sheets, you tossed and turned, leaving the mess your makeup would make of the pillows for tomorrow’s problems. Steve crept back into your mind, his charismatic smiles and easy touches, none of which had been directed at you tonight. It was stupid to be hung up on him, and dangerous to be so obvious about it. You hadn’t been raised to be so weak when it came to your feelings, and you wondered how Nat never seemed to be compromised by emotions. She’d always been just that bit better than you, even in the Red Room.

You brushed your overthinking aside assertively, pulling the sheets close to your chest with the smell of Bucky still lingering on you.


	2. Chapter 2

“Someone had a fun night,” Sam sang as you shuffled into the kitchen, a loose sweater you’d grabbed off the floor hanging off your frame.

You grumbled an unintelligible response, beelining for the coffee that someone had already brewed. Wanda and Vision were sat at the dining table, Wanda laughing over a plate of French toast that looked amazing but almost made your stomach lurch. Food was  _ not _ on the agenda in your hungover state.

“I don’t want hear it,” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes and transferring last night’s mascara into black smudges on the back of your hand. “Where is everyone?”

Sam shrugged, bringing over a plate of fried eggs and some toast to where you’d settled yourself. They were a bit  _ too _ crispy, and the toast was practically black, but Sam had never been the best cook. “Tony and Rhodey are working, and Steve and Nat left for a short mission early this morning.  _ I _ got a lie in.” He grinned, shovelling egg and toast into his mouth.

“And Barnes?” You prompted, buttering the least burnt piece of toast slowly.

“How ab I subbos t’ know?” He frowned, hardly audible with his mouth full. 

You rolled your eyes; Sam and Bucky had one of the most ... _ unique  _ relationships on the compound, their constant push and pull dynamic both amusing and frustrating to all involved. But Steve was the one always caught in the middle.

“I’m here, Birdy .”

The pair of you were startled by the sudden gruff voice behind you. Bucky had been at the compound for  _ months _ and still had yet to master entering a room without frightening the life out of people. It was slow (and sometimes humorous) progress. 

You watched as he eyed up the plate of eggs, and Sam pulled them closer to himself protectively. Bucky’s eyes met yours briefly before flitting away. Was that embarrassment? Shame? He’d never had a problem staring you down before. You picked at the toast on your plate, cutting up a lot of it but not bothering to eat it.

“I swear to god, if you call me Birdy one more time–” 

Bucky’s brows arched, “you’ll do what?”

“Oh, you don’t  _ wanna  _ know what I’ll do.”

“Easy now,” you sighed exasperatedly, “the testosterone is too thick in here, I’m trying to eat.”

Both guys scoffed simultaneously, throwing looks at your neglected toast.

You frowned, batting your hands. “Oh, shut up. I’m not feeling great.”

“Hm, I wonder why?” Sam questioned sarcastically.

Bucky walked over to the fridge and grabbed the orange juice, uncapping it and drinking straight from the bottle. If it were Sam or Steve you'd have been quick to voice your annoyance at this, but part of you was always more wary around Bucky. He wiped his mouth with the back of his human hand, eyes locking with you for a short moment before you awkwardly forced yourself to turn away. What had gotten into you?

“I'm gonna get ready for training.” You muttered, pushing the half eaten plate away from you and sliding off the stool. No one made a sarky comment, but you could feel Sam and Bucky’s eyes bore into your back as you left.

You didn't speak to anyone until you'd finished training.

Whilst cleaning up, someone rapped their fist against your bedroom door. You'd exchanged workout gear for sweatpants and a tank top, ready to take a well needed nap.

“Steve,” you breathed, opening the door to him standing awfully close. “I didn't think you'd be back so soon.” 

The Captain’s mouth quirked into a soft smile, “we got what we needed. Just wanted to check in on you – after last night.”

You felt your composure slacken. Had you really been bad enough to cause Steve actual concern? It wasn't like you hadn't got drunk before with the Avengers, although usually it was within the familiarity of just the group. Your decisions last night were quickly feeling like bigger mistakes.

Steve mistook your step back for you inviting him in, and you wordlessly watched him shove his hands in his pocket as he lingered beside your unmade bed.

“You seemed–” he cut himself off, searching for the right words to say. “You seemed angry?” His tone made it evident that he was tip toeing around setting you off, around saying the wrong thing.

“I wasn't, Steve.” You brushed off, closing the bedroom door. “Not that you'd know, having not spoken to me  _ all _ night.” Perhaps you didn’t really have the right to be pissed at him for that, especially when he seemed worried about you, but your gears were already grinding in irritation the words slipped out.

“ Yeah ,” he sighed, “I was really occupied, I'm sorry. You have the right to be annoyed at me, I just got a little caught up. Was something up? Did you want to talk?” Ever the concerned and caring friend. It was infuriating.

“ _ Nothing _ .” You snapped, instantly giving your emotions away.  _ Poker face, _ you had to remind yourself,  _ your emotions should not rule your exterior appearance _ . “Really, nothing.” Plastering on a smile, you nudged Steve’s shoulder. “Everything's hunky dory.”

Steve’s lips crept into a grin, stepping further into your personal space, “ _ hunky dory? _ ”

“That's what they used to say, didn't they? Back in the day.” 

Your eyes wandered down his form as he humoured you with a laugh. His shirt was so tight it should've counted as more of a second skin than a piece of clothing, and you were finding it hard not to stare. As obvious as you knew you must be being, the way his muscles popped beneath the fabric was hard to look away from. It was like he was _trying_ to get you to make a move and ruin everything.

Another knock at the door pulled your attention away, thankfully, saving you from the growing silence as you started to get lost in accidentally ogling him.

The newcomer didn't bother to wait for a response from either of you, and pushed open the door to poke their head through.

“Tony needs you, Steve.” Bucky coughed awkwardly, taking one glance at the two of you and then determinedly looking away, as if he’d walked in on something he shouldn't have seen.

Steve nodded. His hand rubbed your shoulder comfortingly before he looked towards his best friend. Physical contact between the two of you had started to feel like something you'd been deprived of, and you had to restrain from just leaning into his touch. You sought comfort in the little moments; the way Steve’s fingers would brush against yours or his hand linger on your back when you told a joke, when you were stressed or when you needed support.

Before they left, Bucky spared another look your way, his expression unreadable. _That_ was nothing new; the Winter Soldier had never been an easy man to figure out, in the time you’d known him.

He closed the door without a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sam wilson i hope im doing u justice bby u deserve more appreciation and love


	3. Chapter 3

Charity Gala appearances weren’t particularly high up on your to-do list, but some encouragement from Nat and a dash of bribery from Tony saw you clad in a cocktail dress and two martinis deep. You wouldn’t be getting drunk this time; too many strangers. You’d already checked out all the attendees, acquiring a guest list beforehand to scope them all out, more out of habit than anything. They were mainly socialites and millionaires looking to boost their credibility and appeal by appearing generous to disadvantaged communities and children.

“No getting drunk,” Nat warned from the back of the taxi, eyes pointedly focusing on you, “but have a little fun. For the sake of the group.” Her gaze flickered humorously to Bruce.

“Why are you lookin’ at me? What's that supposed to mean? Nat–”

“Just that we all know you haven't been getting it recently, Banner.” Natasha sighed, applying another coat of her crimson red lipstick absently.

Bruce looked perplexed as he tried to fix his irreparably wonky tie, his face frowning defensively. “Getting it? Getting what?”

“Getting  _ it _ .” Sam rephrased with emphasis.

“I think they mean intercourse–”

“Oh my god, Vision, I get it. Thank you.” Bruce groaned, hiding the shade of pink he'd turned by holding his face in his hands. You couldn't help but laugh, and placed a reassuring hand on Bruce’s shoulder,

“It's not like Barnes or Rogers were getting any for 70 years, right? So it could be way worse.” You reasoned, shooting a smirk at the two super soldiers sitting across from you. Steve was rolling his eyes, but Bucky’s gaze was fixed unnervingly on you again.

You shook it off, checking through your clutch as a distraction. 

The party was at a grand looking mansion; tens of bedrooms, a ballroom or two, valet boys and acres of lush green gardens. You pulled up to the entrance, helping Wanda out after you, as she wasn't exactly a natural in high heels.

Before you could take another step, Steve was looping his arm through yours, looking down at you with a genuine smile. A heat rushed through you, and you had to fix your stare ahead of you both instead of on his earnest expression.

“Shall we?” He asked in a voice that sounded vaguely faux British, and you couldn't help but melt into his touch. The rest followed behind you both, and you were offered entrees and drinks almost as soon as you entered the ballroom.

Situations like this made you instantly uneasy and distrustful. You’d trained most of your life to infiltrate the powerful and the wealthy, and deprogramming from that way of thinking was a work in progress. You were hypervigilant, eyes flitting from one guest to the next, on edge. Steve could sense your tension, and his arm moved from yours to hook around your waist comfortingly. He smiled at passersby with ease, even making conversation with a waitress as you tried not to stare hard enough at her that you’d burn a hole in her head.

Tony turned up fashionably late with Pepper on his arm, swanning past you and Steve towards the bar with a wink. You spotted Rhodey and Nat laughing with some businessmen, and even Wanda and Vision were mingling along with Bruce instead of being attached to one another. A deeper search of the room and you picked out Sam flirting with a young woman dressed in green. Bucky was nowhere to be found.

“Is Bucky okay?” You asked suddenly, looking up at Steve who had been chatting with the barman.

His brow furrowed, “why?”

“You can’t answer my question with another question,” you cocked a brow, “but it’s just because he seems… different. A bit off. And I mean, more than the usual.”

Steve shifted his weight and took a drink of the wine he’d procured, giving you a funny look. “Being brainwashed can do that to a person.”

That hurt, and seemed an unnecessarily blunt answer for a harmless question. You knew Steve was touchy when it came to Bucky, but– “I, of  _ all  _ people, understand that, Steve. You're twisting my words.”

Out of everyone on the compound, Steve and Nat knew the most about your past. Opening up after you moved in, encouraged by Natasha, was a slow and uncomfortable experience for everyone involved. Every layer of your carefully constructed personality had a locked door. But Steve was one of the people who’d managed to get under your hard exterior, which made a comment like that feel insensitive, even if Steve had just forgotten the meaning of his words to you.

You stepped out of arms reach, the place his hand had been resting on your waist turning cold.

“Shit,” he swore softly, scrunching his eyes shut. Even after all this time, hearing Captain America swear would never not be humorous. Except this time you didn’t smile. “I didn't mean anything like that. I misspoke.”

You shrugged, swallowing hard as you suppressed your upset. What was with you and Steve lately? Perhaps your feelings for him were starting to actually conflict with your friendship, as it grew harder and harder to go without an argument a day. The possibility of that being true stung.

Without looking at Steve, you grabbed his drink from his hand and downed it, ignoring your gag reflex at the bitterness and dragging the back of your hand across your lips.

“It's whatever.” You muttered, pushing off the bar and making for the floor of the ballroom without any sort of real plan except to get away. Steve’s voice became lost in the bustle of laughter and chatter around you.

Your usual alcohol tolerance was failing you yet again, the sudden movement combined with the downing of Steve’s glass causing you to feel lightheaded. Trying to retain balance in your ridiculous heels, you accidentally reached out to clutch the arm of a man talking to a woman who looked at you with disdain.

“Sorry,” you laughed airily, releasing him from your grip. “Lost my head a bit there.”

The man smiled, his skin heavily freckled from sun exposure and his suit a peculiar shade of brown. “I don't believe we’ve met.” He held out his hand, and his voice was husky and confidently charming. 

You played along, mouth corners twitching upwards as you obliged him with a handshake. “No, we haven't. I'm–”

“Excuse me,” interrupted an abruptly gruff voice, taking the man aback and making you twirl around with annoyance.

Bucky’s eyes were trained dead on the other man, as if he were ready for a fight he would be able to win without a shadow of a doubt. You felt the cold metal of his hand wrap around your bicep as Bucky pulled you away, confusion rendering you from resisting.

“ _ Bucky _ –” you hissed before he stopped on the other side of the ballroom, guests swelling around you both like a constant tide. You yanked your arm free, although you knew that if he’d actually minded you breaking away it wouldn't have been so easy. “What was that about? What the fuck is up with you?”

“The way he was looking at you; you couldn’t see what you were getting yourself in with.” He offered as explanation, tugging at the sleeves of his tuxedo jacket. It was tailor made to accommodate Bucky’s broad shoulders and bulky metal arm, meaning it hugged him just right. The trousers however, were perhaps a little too tight, his thighs straining against the material if he made too much movement. You imagined a pre-war Bucky at ease in such a get up, but no such Bucky existed anymore.

“I can take care of myself. You've never cared who I talk to before, so don't be ridiculous.”

His eyes narrowed, “it wouldn't have been an interesting conversation anyway.”

You scoffed, “how presumptuous of you, Barnes. It might've been amazing. Maybe he’d be inviting me to his yacht right now, maybe he’s travelled the world, or-”

“Or he might've made a pass at you. You might be  _ begging _ Nat to come save you.”

Your lips parted dumbfoundedly, not understanding why this was coming out. You'd spoken to creepy men at parties before, and never needed assistance in deterring their propositions. The man from before had seemed comparably harmless. “Why do you even care?”

Bucky’s jaw locked. “I don't.”

Looking back out to where you'd been stood with the man, your eyes accidentally caught Steve’s, who was still sat at the bar; alone.

“Good. Now dance with me.” You demanded, facing Bucky with a hard stare. He seemed genuinely taken aback by what you were asking, his brow creasing with confusion. 

Taking the lead, you pulled him closer towards you, guiding his metal arm to settle just above the curve of your hips. The song that was playing had other people on the ballroom floor swaying gracefully, but you weren't convinced that grace was something Bucky was particularly skilled at. Or, skilled at anymore; you’d heard countless tales from Steve of the charming ladies man Sergeant James Barnes, told in such a way that sometimes you could see the sadness and remaining grief in his eyes. His other hand lay on your shoulder and you paralleled his grips, standing close enough to inhale his scent.

The smell of Steve had disappeared.

You were surprised at how natural Bucky was and guiding your bodies to the beat of the music, realising with a twinge of sadness that perhaps it were muscle memory from his pre-serum days. Swaying gently, you felt yourself lean in to the warmth radiating from his body. For someone nicknamed after the coldest season, Bucky was nothing but fire and heat. 

Neither of you spoke a word. Bucky’s hands on your body were feather light, a gesture that seemed to juxtapose everything you thought about him.  _ Gentle _ had never been a word you'd associated with the Winter Soldier. He seemed almost scared to touch you.

But he wasn't the Winter Soldier – he was Bucky Barnes and he was healing in ways not unfamiliar to yourself, even now. He was suppressing his past, defying the people who'd controlled him for decades and trying to define himself the way he wanted to be. You admired that, smiling unconsciously into his shoulder where he couldn’t see.

By the time the song had finished, you were pressed flush against his chest, little room having been left. Bucky was stood close enough that the ends of his hair tickled your cheek. The change in music broke the spell, and you pulled away with a sudden push that left Bucky’s arms momentarily holding the air. 

He stared at you wordlessly, hands falling to his side as you exhaled heavily. The stubborn nature of you both managed to maintain the silence and the distance as the world carried on around you, a particularly upbeat song having everyone on their feet more actively.

When you turned to where Steve had been minutes before, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! as the tags say, this will be slow burn w lots of lovely angst so strap in:))  
> hmu on tumblr and talk to me about bucky<33 stacygwehn.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapter, soz! may double update to make up for it but we shall see xo

Tony called a taxi around 1AM. By this point your shoes were in your hand and your makeup was beyond the help of touch ups. You were remarkably sober, though.  _ Well _ , tipsy enough to manage tripping over air on the pavement, but sober enough to comprehend sentences.

Nat had her arm around your shoulders as you leaned into her easily, free of inhibitions as the whole gang stood on the curb of the driveway waiting for the cab to arrive. Wanda was practically asleep in Vision’s arms, but Sam and Rhodey were awake enough to be firing jokes off one another. Steve stood on the other side of Nat, with Bucky right beside him. Neither of the super soldiers spoke, let alone looked at anyone.

When the taxi arrived, everyone clambered in eagerly, with you and Nat letting them all go first. It was big, surely big enough to carry at least 10 people, or at least you'd thought up until the moment you’d jumped in last. 

No seats left. You frowned, concerned at the idea of waiting behind alone at this unfamiliar mansion for another cab.

“Y/N, you can take my seat–” Vision began chivalrously, but you waved him off. Wanda was already passed out in his lap, and you felt guilty about disturbing her.

Bold as brass and riding on liquid confidence, you stepped over to the side of the taxi where Sam, Bucky, Steve and Nat had squeezed in.

“This seat taken?” You joked, grinning at Sam playfully whilst gesturing to his lap. His mouth gaped open but before the words could leave his lips you'd lay yourself down, draping your body across the backseat so your head was resting directly Bucky’s lap. Tony let out a scoff at Bucky’s startled expression, as you looked up at him. Your head spun from lying down so suddenly whilst tipsy, but you were laughing before you knew it, with Nat rolling her eyes and lying a hand on your waist where it lay across her. Steve seemed inexplicably tense.

Bucky was also less relaxed. His aforementioned thighs surprisingly made for decent pillows, but you could tell your squirming around was a strain on him. You didn't even reach Steve, who was sat on the other side of the backseat. 

It took a half hour at this time to reach the compound, but somehow it a hell of a lot longer. 

On the other side of the taxi, the evening’s events and the alcohol had really loosened Bruce up. He was now going on happily about someone’s number he'd acquired and raving about the fruit parfait. Tony and Pepper were locked in quiet conversation, with Rhodey beside them asleep against Tony’s shoulder 

Around half way into the journey, the feeling of something in your hair caused you to flinch defensively back into consciousness. 

None of the three that you were lay across appeared to notice, and you realised slowly that someone's hands were carding through your hair softly. The movements were tender and hesitant, as if they were testing the waters. But they were calming, and you felt your eyelids grow heavy as the movements continued. Your lack of inhibitions and the feeling of relative safety at being around people you knew allowed you to relax enough to not care who it was touching you.

You were jolted awake by Sam slapping your bare ankle, the taxi having finally reached the compound. The others had already hopped out, leaving just the people you were anchoring to the seats left.

Steve coughed awkwardly, and you clambered to your feet. The moment you stood up, your world tilted again, but cold metal held you up right. Sam and Nat were already jumping out now, followed by a hesitant Steve whose eyes were locked on Bucky's hands around your biceps. 

“‘M alright,” you mumbled, shaking off Bucky who didn't put up a fight and pushing past Steve to get out before him.

You couldn't explain the tension between the three of you, but it was expanding at a suffocating rate. Heels clutched in your hands, you followed behind Sam and Nat at a measured pace, just fast enough to keep ahead of the two super soldiers behind you. 

Everyone seemed to retreat back to their respective quarters, with non-residents (Clint) taking up roost on the couch, and Tony and Pepper residing in the spare bedroom. The privacy of your own space was all too welcoming, but when you took a glance out of the window you noticed Steve and Bucky engrossed in conversation on the lawn.

It was animated and personal, both standing close to one another.  _ Don't be nosy, _ you scolded yourself, curiosity withholding you from looking away.

After a minute or two, Steve left. 

Bucky lingered on the grass, hands in his blazer pockets, before he turned to look up directly at your quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, comments and kudos keep me goin ;) thank you for the lovely response to the previous chapters!! you are all too kind<3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another update and this boy is much thiccer so enjoy ,, angst ahead

When you and Nat sparred, it was worthy of an audience. You were matched in stamina and agility, but you excelled in speed where Nat bested you in strength. If you didn't finish training with bruises afterwards, you’d do more. Maybe it was the old Red Room programming in you both, but you tended to go at it until your limbs ached, not scared of drawing blood.

Today was no different, but with the added viewership of Wanda and Steve, who was acting as a sort of referee – not that you were currently listening to him. In fact, you’d hardly spoken to him since the party. You weren’t particularly mad at him for his comments anymore; it felt easier to establish a distance between them, especially with your feelings gnawing away at you every time he entered a room you were in.

Steve noticed, as perceptive as he always seemed to be. He looked at you with concern that tripped a sliver of guilt in you for avoiding someone who was –  _ should _ have been – one of your closest friends.

Nat swung at your stomach, and wrapped up in your own thoughts you didn’t register her move in time to block it. Doubling over, you groaned just as she delivered another hit with the swipe of her leg, smooth and effective as you crumpled to the floor.

“Hey, enough. Time out.” Steve called, striding over. Before you could even consider accepting his hand of help, you pushed yourself back up, fists clenched.

“I’m fine,  _ Cap _ .” You grunted offhandedly, flashing him a quick glance. “I’m not finished.”

Steve nodded slowly and with uncertainty, taking a few small steps back, not far from his previous spot. Nat grinned, coming back at you without mercy, her blows resonating with more pain now. You got in a solid blow to her ribs,  _ nearly  _ taking her out, but Steve was becoming increasingly one hell of a distraction and the downfall of your fight.

By the time Steve called time, you were both panting and sweaty. Nat placed her hand on your shoulder, offering you a smile and a look of approval. That simple gesture meant a lot to you; growing up in the conditions you both did, praise for good work was rarely rewarded and rewards were hardly ever good.

“Who’s next?” You forced a smile, ignoring the dull, throbbing pain affecting your muscles. Wanda stared at the floor and Natasha cocked a brow at you, no one wanting to point out your obvious overestimating of your physical health right now.

“I think you’ve worked hard enough,” Steve suggested, concern streaking his face, “you’re okay to take a break–”

“I’ll go.”

Heads snapped in the direction of the training room door, where Bucky had entered, clad in workout attire. His tank top bared the scarring detail of where metal met flesh; he only ever seemed to wear such exposing clothing when he was either around close friends (Steve, sometimes Sam) or was having one of his better days. It could easily have been either option, and you had to remind yourself repeatedly to _ stop staring _ .

Bucky was unphased by his own abrupt entrance, and unbothered by your reactions. He strode over to the mat where you had been sparring with Nat, eyebrows raised at you in silent question.

“Y/N–” Nat started, but you raised a hand as if to silence her, your eyes trained on Bucky’s.

Your mouth quirked into a flash of a smirk. “Let’s go.”

“Y/N, you’re exhausted!” Steve exclaimed from the side, frustration evident in his tone. “Enough, go get some rest, please.”

“The lady says she wants to go, Steve.” Bucky shrugged at his best friend with his palms outstretched.

“ _T_ __he_ lady _ is gonna kick your ass.” You scoffed with incredulity, tightening your ponytail.

He anticipated your first move. Hell, he anticipated most of your moves, causing you to recklessly exert yourself to the max out of frustration. Wanda, Nat and Steve watched on in attentive silence, leaving yours and Bucky’s grunts to echo off the training room walls. You were letting your emotions get the better of you; your passive anger at Steve, the looks you knew Nat was giving you, and the spark that seemed to flicker between you and Bucky as you went at it.

If you could get your emotions under control, the match would be far more even. But everything was off-kilter, and you could feel yourself lagging.

You'd been going for a good five or so minutes when something started to feel wrong. Bucky had one of your arms pinned against your back when your head began to spin like you were riding on a tilt-a-whirl. You froze, going limp in his grip as your knees began to shake beneath you. The sudden compliance with his restraint caught Bucky somewhat off guard, and as he slackened his grip you collapsed onto the mat. 

The world became swallowed by a blanket of black.

By the time you’d slowly returned to consciousness, soft sheets shifted below you. A low murmur registered distantly, your peripheral establishing that you were back in your quarters and  _ definitely  _ not the training room. The last thing you could solidly remember was being locked against Bucky, feeling exhausted and frustrated.

Those emotions flooded back, causing you to bolt upright in the bed.

“Woah, easy there.” Steve was by your side in a moment, his brow creasing. Blue irises searched yours as your heavy eyelids flickered with drowsiness.

“Shit,” you cursed as you rubbed your eyes with the ball of your palm. Steve perched hesitantly on the side of your bed, and some movement in the corner of your eye alerted you to Bucky’s awkward looking presence too, lingering just by the door. 

“You passed out, we ran a few tests whilst you were under.” You tensed up. People poking needles into you whilst unconscious had always made you uneasy and paranoid, and you had to remind yourself that these were your  _ friends _ . “Doctor’s order are  _ sleep _ , lots of it. And hydration. And maybe some fruit, and-”

“And quiet.” Bucky interrupted. You were quick to notice the embarrassed blush that crept into Steve’s cheeks at the comment indirectly aimed at him.

“You’ll be okay?" He asked, face so full of concern that it was hard not to wilt as you looked into his baby blue eyes. You gave him a stiff nod and tight, one sided smile in return.

Steve returned to Bucky’s side, expecting to leave before Bucky placed a hand on his best friend’s shoulder, halting him.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” He said, low and with a look that spoke more than he’d said.

“But you just said–”   


“I know, Steve.” Then, even quieter, “please.” They stood in silent conversation before a moment more, until Steve tore his stare away and slipped out without another word. 

You felt frozen to the bed. Bucky didn’t normally intimidate you, but you weren’t always as vulnerable as you were now. The hand of his metal arm was stuffed in his jacket pocket, something you’d picked up on him doing a lot. Questions about his arm seemed way too personal for you to get into with him, but you’d theorised that it had something to do with the power that he knew it had, and wanting to keep it hidden. Imagining the Winter Soldier scared of something seemed almost ridiculous when  _ he  _ was the one that had been written into slavic cautionary tales and mythos. 

The only thing Bucky seemed scared of was himself.

“Did I– Did I push too hard?” His brow furrowed as if he were in pain, but his tone was almost nervous, like he was worried about your answer.

You didn’t hesitate to shake your head. “I was distracted. Me collapsing was nothing to do with you, Bucky. I should’ve been more careful, and more aware.” You sighed, trying desperately not to think of Steve anymore. “If I was  _ really  _ fighting, I would’ve kicked your ass.” 

Bucky gave you a tight nod and smile, looking anywhere but your bed. Neither of you were sure what to say next, but you could tell that Bucky had more than he’d admit playing on his mind. You wrung your hands awkwardly.

“It’s Steve, right?”

Your head shot to attention, Bucky’s eyebrows raised at you. 

“What?”

“Steve’s the distraction.” He said, all matter-of-fact.

“ _ No _ .” You defended yourself far too incredulously, far too quickly.

Bucky let out an airy laugh. “I’m not as blind as he is. To be fair, he’s always been a little blind to the affection of women. Always needed that extra nudge of confidence or pointing out to even believe a girl would be interested in him. That definitely didn’t change when he became Cap.” You recalled Sharon Carter, a remarkable S.H.I.E.L.D. agent that Steve had been prompted by Sam and Nat to go on a date with a few months ago. They’d burned hard and fast, but ultimately parted ways.

“But you either need to tell him how you feel, or move on. Cause what you’re doing now, burning yourself out and getting wasted at parties, it isn’t good. Getting yourself hurt over your feelings is exactly what Steve wouldn’t want. You and I both know that.”

Pursing your lips, you managed a small, understanding nod. It was clear Bucky was right, that Steve might even feel guilt knowing your recent reckless nature was because of him.

Silently, Bucky slipped out without as much as another look your way, leaving you with two options.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woo im back ! this is a longer chap so pls enjoy xo the queen of angst back at it again xoxo

You’d never been fond of the idea of blind dates; going head first into a situation you hadn’t scoped out yet and weren’t exactly prepared for wasn’t something you’d been trained to do. But your life with the Avengers was all about turning over a new leaf – plus Sam was pretty damn persuasive.

The date was casual, or at least that’s what you’d been assured, so you put together an outfit made up of a low cut shirt, deep red culottes and your leather jacket. A push up bra never hurt anybody, either. Makeup was minimal and had never been a priority, but you wore the silver pendant necklace that Tony had bought you for your birthday just to finish the look.

“Damn, Y/N,” Sam laughed breezily as you met with him in the common room before leaving, “sure we can’t rearrange this to be our date?” He joked, prompting you to roll your eyes.

“When you decide to settle down I’ll give it some consideration.” You scoffed flippantly with a raised brow. He hadn’t held down a girlfriend for longer than three months in the time you’d known him.

Sam shrugged with a faux crestfallen sigh, “the Falcon flies solo. A tragedy for all.”

“Y/N, you look stunning! Are you going out? Who with?” Wanda gushed as she entered the room, heading for the kitchen area for a drink but stopping by to embrace youin a light hug.

You smiled widely, “it’s just a blind date. Courtesy of Wilson. No big deal.”

Wanda grinned as she poured herself a glass of juice. “Oh, good! I’d love to have someone me and Vis could double date with. Hope it all works out! If they’re a creep, don’t be afraid to ‘go to the bathroom’, or something. You deserve the best.”

The witch’s sentiment caused a warmth to spread through you at her hopefulness, as well as heightening your nerves. But you had to trust that Sam knew who he was setting you up with - you  _ had  _ to trust Sam. Trust was something you were getting better at, and this wouldn’t set you back.

He’d booked you and your date a table at a restaurant in the city, reserved for 9pm, it was fast approaching. You were ready to go when Steve swanned in, laughing to Bucky about something but abruptly stopping at the sight of you dressed up. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you dressed to the nines before, and tonight wasn’t exactly the height of formal party attire compared to some of your previous outfits. 

Tonight was about moving on from Steve – so why’d he have to make it so goddamn hard? He could waltz in wearing sweatpants and you’d probably be having heart palpitations, nevermind the way he was looking at you right now.

Where Steve’s eyes on you were soft and in awe, Bucky’s gaze raked across your attire. He was so still, but the way he was staring at you almost seemed to burn. You shifted, the silence becoming awkward until Sam interjected.

“Hey, Uber’s here. Y’all can unfreeze.” Sam flashed you a side eye, but you smiled and waved it all off.

“Thanks, Sam. I’ll see you all tonight!” You left, unable to shake the memory of both super soldier’s eyes fixed on you, and your nerves for the date building up.

Things didn’t get off to a great start.

Traffic was a ball ache, and you arrived 20 minutes late to the restaurant. You didn’t have your date’s name, number or info, only the table to ask for when you arrived, meaning you couldn’t text ahead that you’d be late. When you got there, you were informed that your date also hadn’t arrived yet, which at first was a relief.

The waiter was pouring you a glass of red wine when panic started to settle in. Your date was now approximately ¾ of an hour late. Restaurant staff hovered around you, their impatience growing as you dismissed them every time they offered to take your order. When it got to 10pm, it seemed clear that your date probably wasn’t coming.

You’d been stood up.

Your first blind date, and they hadn’t even showed. Way to knock down your confidence. Of course it might not have been anything personal, and your skin was thick enough to not be upset about it all, but it didn’t mean you were unaffected. You adamantly drank the rest of the wine yourself, ordered some olives, then sent Sam a text.

**_To: the falcon_ **

_ Got stood up. Drowning sorrow in olives. Pick me up? _

When the olives were gone you ordered some garlic bread to bide your time, still waiting on a text back from Sam who had mysteriously not replied. By this point, the alcohol had you feeling woozy and the snacks had you full and drowsy, just desperately wanting to go home and escape this embarrassment. All around you, couples ate and chatted as you sat alone, quite obviously having been stood up.

It was nearing 11pm and the restaurant would soon be closing. Giving up on any word from Sam, you were about to pay the bill when a waiter rushed towards you.

“Sorry, but your date has just arrived. He says he’s very sorry for the inconvenience.” The waiter looked flushed, as if he’d been suddenly apprehended by someone. Your brow furrowed. 

Just arrived? The fucking  _ cheek _ .

Anger rushed through your abruptly. He’d made you wait an hour and a half, and had the _gall_ to show up anyway despite his ridiculous punctuality. What did he expect you to say? That it was  _ okay _ ? It wasn’t, and now you’d consumed enough liquid confidence to adamantly admit so to his face.

You were all too ready to give him a piece of your mind when another waiter rounded the corner quickly, showing your blind date towards your table, and you froze up when your eyes adjusted to the figure being led in your direction.

Bucky Barnes was suit clad and freshly groomed. His shoulder length locks were fucking  _ braided _ into French plaits, and he approached where you sat with an unreadable expression. He commanded silence and hushed conversations as he passed the tables of other customers, his metal arm not concealed. And now he was sitting right in front of you.

“Bucky,” you shook your head breathlessly, “you’re my blind date?”

His face instantly registered confusion. “Blind date? No.”

“What? Then what– why are you  _ here _ ?” You demanded, ignoring how he stole some garlic bread from your plate, whilst hardly breaking eye contact.

“Sam got your text.” All of his answers seemed like he expected they’d be explanation enough, but they were causing you to become more and more irritable.

Frustration ebbed away at you. “And what? He fucking told everyone at the compound about how I got stood up on my first date?”

Bucky’s confusion softened, but you would’ve missed it if you’d blinked. “Your first date ever?”

It had slipped out in your anger; your cheeks flushed as your face scrunched up with embarrassment. “Yeah. Yes. I mean, I went on dates  _ before _ , but they weren’t of my choosing, they were for missions. They didn’t count. At least  _ I _ don’t count them.” You explained, trying to repress the memories of creepy old oligarchs and politicians you’d had to chat up for information and intel.

“Sam didn’t tell everyone.” Bucky stole another piece of garlic bread, which had gone cold by now. “He told Steve and I was there at the time.”

That didn’t make you feel any better. The idea of Steve knowing the failure of your dating exploits made you cringe. “And you were chosen to save me from my own embarrassment?”

Bucky shook his head slowly after demolishing the garlic bread, his flesh hand fidgeting on the table. “No, I volunteered.”

_ Volunteered? Why would he do that?  _ It wasn’t some grand prize to come pick you up from your failure of a date.

“Not to save you from your own embarrassment, I didn’t mean that.” He backtracked, “you shouldn’t be embarrassed, it’s that asshole that should be embarrassed. I volunteered to come pick you up, and I figured... why waste a perfectly good reservation.”

A smile slipped its way onto your lips. “Sorry to break it to you, but the restaurants closing in like 15 minutes.” But the sentiment was… _nice_. Working in a team like the Avengers meant saving each other on a frequent basis, but that hardly ever included from social situations.

“Ah.” He sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. “I'm sorry.”

“Why should you be sorry? You didn't stand me up, Bucky. Can we go home?”

Bucky offered you a thin smile and nodded. You called for the bill, which Bucky promised they'd already gotten covered, and hailed a cab on the high street. He lapsed back into the silence that surrounded Bucky wherever he went, not quite awkward but sometimes unsettling, except now all you felt was comfortable. His silence really did speak louder than his words; you dared to go as far as suggesting to yourself that Bucky really did care about you. 

You’d always thought that he only cared about two things: Steve and change. The two coincided, he cared about Steve as his best friend, and changing into a better man. He cared about changing for Steve, and how Steve changed him. At least, that’s what you thought you saw.

But walking home someone who was drunk, dancing with and distracting them at parties, offering them advice and caring about their wellbeing, going out of their way to rescue them from situations – those felt like the actions of a man who cared. 

He sat beside you, still and unnecessarily tense, as you took a risk in placing your hand over Bucky’s knee.

“Thank you.” You focused your gaze on him, determined to convey your gratification, until he finally dragged his eyes away. “Really.”

A new emotion flickered across Bucky’s expression, and you pulled back your hand before it started to get awkward.

“You looked beautiful tonight.” He was speaking to you, but his eyes were on the driver in front. Bucky’s metal fist clenched. “I mean, you look beautiful, uh, every–”

You nudged his right shoulder light heartedly with your left, “not much of a smooth talker? I’m shocked.” 

Bucky sighed with the smallest of smiles playing on his lips. “I’m a bit out of touch. Not sure my flirting tactics work well with modern women.” His innocence to 21st century conventions was practically adorable –  _ ‘adorable’  _ and  _ ‘innocence’  _ feeling like complete oxymorons to describe Bucky. His nervousness at displaying affection affected his relationships with everyone at the compound, but least with Steve. With this in mind, you felt somewhat taken aback by his compliment.

“Flirting?” You arched an incredulous eyebrow. The lights of the city flashed by in neon colours, casting dark shadows across his face.

“Hypothetically. Because you mentioned smooth talking. I didn’t mean that I was–” he stopped when he picked up on your stifled laughter, and exhaled. “Sorry.”

_ Sorry? _ Again? “Stop apologising, Barnes. Or I might not forgive you when there’s actually something to be sorry for.” It was a joke, one that clearly flew over Bucky’s otherwise distracted head.

“What if there is?”

He was being incredibly cryptic. You felt like your face was slowly becoming fixed in a permanent frown, trying to decipher his meaning. Nothing had happened that you could recall that you would want Bucky to seriously answer for. “Like what?” you demanded, your previously playful tone being replaced by concern.

But it seemed Bucky had lost his nerve. “Nothing. Doesn’t matter. I’m–”

“Don’t you fucking dare.” It wasn’t an angry snap; your frustration from being stood up was just now being built on by Bucky’s secretiveness. “Don’t say sorry. One more time, and I  _ swear  _ to god.”

The pair of you lapsed into silence. A perfectly harmless and thoughtful moment between you both had turned suddenly sour. If only Sam had picked you up like you’d asked. When you pulled up at the compound, you quickly reached across him to hold his car door in place, locking him in position. (He could easily move you with his metal arm, but you felt certain he wouldn’t. He hated using it for violence unless necessary now.)

“Tell me what’s up.” You felt yourself slipping uncontrollably back into interrogation tactics from the Red Room. Someone like Bucky could handle it, hell, he already had previously; first hand. Not that you would lay it on thick, but you were determined to get a goddamn answer about his weird behaviour out of him.

Bucky’s grunted noncommittally. “Nothing, Y/N. Lemme out.”

“You've been acting weirdly, lately. Personal, yet distant. I let you in and get nothing back. I’m vulnerable and I never see a similar side to you, and I get that it must be fucking hard adjusting. I’m adjusting too. But regardless of your past, you haven't done anything that warrants apologising to me so cut the shit–”

“Well, maybe I’m just old fashioned, but liking one of the closest friends your best friend has seems a little out of bounds to me, ‘specially when she’s in love with him.  _ Sorry  _ if that makes me a little grouchy.  _ Sorry  _ if that makes me feel a little guilty.”

You felt like you were treading water. Comprehension took a few moments to hit you, your brow furrowing and mind whirring because he couldn’t be  _ serious _ , could he? Bucky didn’t  _ like  _ you? He wouldn’t even look at you, not bothering to offer any other sort of explanation.

Being temporarily distracted by this revelation, Bucky managed to take you by surprise and slam the taxi door open, jumping out of your reach. Scrambling out of the taxi after him, you struggled with your purse to get some change for the driver, falling quickly behind Bucky who was bee-lining for the compound.

“Bucky!” you practically tore off your heels so you could run on the grass after him easier. His pace didn’t quicken in response, allowing you to pull up in front of him just metres from the entrance to your home. “What the fuck? Since when do you run away from shit?”

He managed to feign offence. “I’m not running away. I’m backing off.”

You scoffed, “looks like running away to me.”

“I’m backing off because I know you love Steve.”

“Jesus, Bucky. I don’t love Steve. Well, I  _ do _ , just not like that. I’m not  _ in  _ love with Steve. Yeah, I like–  _ liked _ ,” (you were trying to convince yourself) “Steve. But you’re blowing this way up!” 

You reached a tentative hand out towards his non-metal shoulder, but noticed the smallest of flinches. “ _ Hey _ , Bucky–” you began, both stern and tentative, only to have him shake his head and cut you off.

“Not tonight. I’m sorry I ruined your date further –  _ that  _ I can actually apologise for – but you really, really did look beautiful.” 

Watching him go was all you could really bring yourself to do, not wanting to make the situation worse, and left with your own head swimming.

He went inside without looking back.

Your head was a mess of Bucky and Steve and failed dates and unexpected confessions. The prospect of facing Bucky tomorrow felt like a pinch to the heart. By the time you began to move yourself out of the cold, you finally noticed the other figure outside with you. It was something you should have picked up on; you were  _ trained  _ as a spy and an assassin , this wasn’t the shit you slipped up on. Yet here you were, vulnerable, acting as prey. 

Bracing yourself for a fight, you squinted into the darkness of the shadows around the left side of the compound until someone emerged, shielding their eyes.

“Y/N?” It was the familiar voice of Mr All American.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i love reading ur lovely comments and tysm for the kudos !! lemme know what u thoughtttt<33


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys, it's ya gal stilinskitrash, back at it again with a fresh serving of angst

“Shit.”

“Hey, hey, don’t walk away, Y/N.” Steve was running after you, grabbing your elbow and pulling you back. You were overridden with embarrassment and panic; how long had he been there? How much had he overheard?

Cringing, you tore your arm away from his grip. His face was painted in a frown that was both sad and confused and all too painful for you to look at. You attempted futilely to straighten up and mask your panic, raising a sceptical brow at him.

“Walk away from what? It’s cold, I’m just heading inside.” you explained with faux innocence.

“Don’t give me that, I thought we were honest with each other.”

Your jaw clenched. Lying to Steve was a kick in the gut, but wasn’t that what you’d been doing all this time anyway, by not telling him your feelings?

“How– how much did you overhear?” you sighed, struggling to meet his eyes.

“Enough, Y/N.” Fuck, he sounded  _ so sad _ . Your fight or flight senses were switched into overdrive, trying to protect you from the oncoming embarrassment. “I’m sorry your date didn’t go as planned.”

A frown took over your face suddenly. “ _ That’s _ what you have to say? You heard everything and your first thought is my shitty date?”

Steve  _ blushed _ – he goddamn blushed. He seemed flustered, and you realised guiltily the exact situation you might have thrown him into. He’d just found out that one of his best friends was infatuated with him, and that his oldest friend in the world liked her. The lack of an instant movie-esque “ _ I like you too, Y/N _ ” suggested he didn’t feel the same way, and he was too polite to just let you down so bluntly, and too awkward to bring up Bucky.

“Just save it, Steve. I don’t need to hear it, really. It’s been a really long day, and I want to go to bed and forget this ever happened. Can we do that?”

“I haven’t been honest with you.” he said in response, the words falling out quickly and as if he hadn’t just heard you. “I knew, and I should have told you or spoken to you about it–”

“Knew  _ what  _ exactly?”

Steve pursed his lips, stalling again. “That you… felt something for me. Something more.” God, your face felt like it was on fire. A wormhole swallowing you up would have been perfect to escape the situation. “Bucky didn’t explicitly tell me how you felt, but hinted at it quite blatantly after the party the other week. The one where me and you had a falling out.”

His words were almost a slap to the face. “Everyone needs to stop prying into my love life!” 

“He wasn’t being nosey, Y/N.” Steve’s voice had maintained a level of calm you weren’t reflecting back at him. Part of you felt angered by the fact that Steve wouldn’t rise to you, even though you could tell this whole conversation was equal parts awkward and sad to him too. “And I genuinely think Buck likes you in a way he hasn’t liked anyone for about, what? 70 years, give or take? I really mean that. He doesn’t need to tell me for me to figure out exactly why he looks at you the way that he does.”

You stepped back abruptly, forehead creasing. “That’s a scarily bold statement, Steve. I don’t think it’s like  _ that _ .”

“Y/N, I know Bucky better than most. He cares about you, and that’s why he told me that you liked me. He’s agitated seeing you act how you have been, which makes  _ me  _ feel awful in return. I don’t think you notice how he is around you; either of you come back from a mission and his eyes find you first. You’re drunk at a party and he just  _ happens  _ to be around to act as a crutch. You get stood up on a date and he’s the first to offer to pick you up. And I would say I don’t know where this has all come from, but  _ look  _ at you.” 

It’s unbearably hard not to squirm under Steve’s gaze, soft on you and admiring. You never thought blue eyes could look so warm.

“You’re beautiful and smart, you hold your own, you inspire and encourage your teammates. I know you struggle with feeling a detachment from them, but they all  _ adore  _ you. You’ve let them behind your walls in ways even you don’t realise. And, Bucky has let you behind his, because he sees all that in you and  _ more _ .”

Your head was far from just swimming; you were caught in a monster wave without a liferaft, swallowed by an overwhelming amount of affection that never in your life had you been accustomed to. Conflict raged, too, between these revelations about the Winter Soldier and the nagging voice in your mind asking  _ why don’t you feel the way he does about me, then? _

“You’ve stood by me through constant struggles and you’re one of my closest friends. I can’t lose that.” he reached out his hand tenderly, looping his fingers through yours in the darkness. Gingerly, you tipped towards his touch, comforted.

“I can’t lose that, either.” you whispered. Steve wasted no more time in pulling you close for a hug that was so tight it restricted all your movement. Part of it felt like closure. The cleared air was like coming up from underwater for the first time in too long, and even though it hurt, you knew it would take a hell of a lot more to stop you being friends with Steve.

You weren’t burdened with the guilt of your crush anymore, the possibilities and the hurt that came with unrequited feelings. Everything was out in the open; your feelings, Steve’s –  _ Bucky’s _ .

_ God, Bucky _ . As Steve pulls away, your eyes drifted up the part of the compound where you knew his room was. There wasn’t a clear view of it from where you were, but you could tell his lights were out.

In amicable silence, you followed Steve back inside, saying goodnight before stopping by the kitchen to make yourself a drink. The kettle was just boiling when someone announced themselves with a cough behind you, instinctively causing you to whip around with the closest weapon you could find clutched in your hand; a butter knife.

“Woah, easy there, tiger.” Sam quirked an amused brow, holding his hands up in defence.

“Don’t sneak up on me like that,” you groaned, rolling your shoulders as you tried to relax. “I’ve had enough surprises today.”

“Surprises, huh?”

You stared at him for a long time, waiting for the ball to drop.

“Fuck, the blind date. Oh god, Y/N, I’m so sorry. If I’d have known that douchebag would even consider standing you up I would never have set you up with them.” he sounded genuinely regretful, and scrubbed a hand across his face tiredly. “I was really just tryna help and I feel like I made everything  _ worse  _ for you.”

“Sam, c’mon. It was anything  _ but  _ your fault. The only thing you’re actually guilty of is exposing my predicament to two super soldiers.”

His head ducked slowly as he kissed his teeth, “yeah, maybe not my smartest move.”

“Understatement.”

“Well,  _ that  _ I can be sorry for, but I don’t regret it. You should’ve seen their faces when I told them you were on a blind date. I may as well have told them you were on a date with Donald Trump.”

“ _ Both _ of them?” you frowned incredulously.

“Yup. They were,  _ and are _ , absolute messes, Y/N. They were practically up in arms when I got the text you’d been stood up. Took a hell of a telling from Nat to chill them out, which was  _ hilarious _ .” Sam laughed breezily as he made himself a sandwich, regardless that it was past midnight.

Biting down on your lip, you stayed silent at this news, understanding their reactions from the evenings confessions. 

“Yeah,” you sighed, “a lot… a lot came out tonight.”

He didn’t even look up from his food as he nodded, and said “anything to do with a certain greasy grandpa?”

You blinked silently. “Sorry, what?”

“Don’t play games with me,” Sam chuckled, meeting your eyes. “Bucky. Our resident Winter Soldier. His big high school crush on you happen to come up in conversation?”

“You  _ knew? _ ” you accused him incredulously, a smug grin spreading across his face. He narrowly avoided your aim as you flung the butter knife in his direction.

“Hey!” he cried defensively, “there’s no need!”

“You could have  _ told  _ me, Sam.”

“Nah, you know, bro code and that.” He shook his head, forcing a faux serious expression.

Rolling your eyes, you picked the butter knife up from where it had landed on the other side of the kitchen, wedged into a wall. “As if.”

“Plus, he didn’t actually tell  _ me _ . So I shouldn’t have really told  _ you _ . Intuition is one of my greatest skills.”

You raised your eyebrows humorously and twirled the knife between your fingers, pursing your lips thoughtfully. “What’s your intuition telling you now?”

“Uhh, that we need to call someone to fix that wall you just impaled?”

“Are you two finished?” 

Both of your heads whipped around in the direction of the door, where Wanda stood looking weary and dressed in a dark night gown. She rubbed her eyes with her palms, looking between the two of you with confusion, and at the butter knife in your hand.

“You’re aware it’s like, 2AM, right? That’s generally when people like to be asleep.”

“Sorry, Wanda.” you smiled guiltily, and moved to put away the knife with haste. You’d completely forgotten about making yourself a drink. “We’re on our way to bed now,  _ aren’t we? _ ”

Sam had a mouthful of sandwich as you pointedly glared at him.

“Mhm.” he mumbled, wide eyed and picking up the plate to take with him back to his room.

The Scarlet Witch gave you both a small, grateful smile. Before she glided out, she flicked her wrist nonchalantly in the direction of the other side of the room. You stared at the glow of red, as she magically fixed the hole in the wall without so much as a second glance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the lack of bucky


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i RETURN! sorry for the lil hiatus, had school and stuff but it's over now and i have my results and passed everything and got into uni so it's all good!!<33

You hated hotels; the quinjet might’ve been less comfortable, but you’d have probably felt more at ease. Hotels reminded you of your old missions pre-avengers. They weren’t memories you wanted to revisit or rifle through. But everyone had hopped on the quinjet and flown out to DC for a press conference, and Tony had arranged for everyone to sleep in a hotel nearby to the venue.

Approaching the main desk, Rhodey checked you all in and acquired the room keys and numbers. “We’re all sharing in twos.” he announced, “so no fighting. I didn’t choose these pairings, alright. Take it up with a computer generated system if there’s gonna be any issues.”

Sam dug his elbow into your side, smiling proudly. Before you could question his behaviour, Rhodey was holding out a key to you in his palm. “Room 203. You and Barnes, Y/L/N.”

_ Bucky? _ You looked panickedly to Sam, whose grin had already widened. Bucky himself was on your right, straight poker faced and staring at the reception desk.

“What did you do?” you hissed at Sam, who shrugged his shoulders as he failed to wipe the smile from his face.

“I have no idea what you mean. And if I perhaps knew of some room arrangement hacking that took place prior to our arrival, I wouldn’t be able to comment without my lawyer present.”

“You really are the absolute worst.” you grumbled, snatching up your holdall and marching towards the elevator. Bucky was silently hot on your heels, slipping into the elevator behind you just before the doors closed. 

The awkward silence and the elevator music made the scenario seem almost comical momentarily. Bucky’s metal arm creaked gently as he flexed his hand, eyes fixated on the door even when you knew he could feel your eyes on him.

“Are we gonna talk, or…?”

A beat of silence. “I wasn’t sure you wanted to.” he replied, his voice even.

“Why would you think that?”

Bucky switched his duffel bag from one shoulder to the other. “We’ve hardly spoken in the past few weeks since I told you.”  _ that you liked me _ . 

You worried your lower lip. He was right, you hadn’t truly been intentionally avoiding him, but you just weren’t sure where you stood with Bucky now. (But had you ever been sure?) On one hand, you’d never had any reason to believe he’d liked you in any way other than companionship, despite people like Sam claiming it was  _ obvious _ . On the other, you’d started to grow closer to Bucky before his great confession, and the sudden loss of contact between the two of you felt more gaping than it should have.

“Yeah,” you sighed, dragging your fingers through your hair, “maybe we should talk–”

_ Ding _ . The elevator arrived at your floor, and Bucky was already out of the door before it’d even opened all the way. _ Alright then, it’s like that _ , you thought bitterly as you trailed after him at your own pace.

You had the key, and you unlocked the door to a situation that immediately escalated the tension already going on. It was a single room with a double bed. The pair of you were frozen in the doorway for far too long, staring at the bed with its fresh duvet and sheets.

“I can take the floor.” Bucky offered, stepping into the room.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” you dismissed, setting your stuff down. The clock on the wall read almost 11PM, and you had an early day tomorrow. “I’m fine with the floor. I’ll grab some pillows and an extra duvet or two.”

Bucky stepped in front of you, his broad shouldered frame towering over you. “Let’s not fight over this.”

“Then stop disagreeing.” you said through gritted teeth.

“Then neither of us take the bed.” he attempted a diplomatic take, but you just kissed your teeth at him.

“That’s a ridiculous waste of a perfectly good bed.”

“Sleep in it then.” Bucky challenged, unmoving.

“ _ No _ .”

It very much felt like a stalemate.

You dared to meet his eyes, and felt taken aback by the compassion and concern you were met with. His emotions seemed to be laid bare in his eyes, suggesting more than his words were and could.

“I mean, we  _ could  _ share. I’m not opposed to it. I just thought you wouldn’t want to.” This wasn’t you giving in. You were being reasonable.

Bucky shifted his weight, backing up out of your personal space just a fraction. “Well I didn’t think  _ you  _ wanted to. But,” he hesitated, his fingers fiddling with the denim of his jeans subconsciously, “I’m just aware that I could hurt you.”

Your eyebrows knitted together. “Hurt me how?”

He backed up again. “I could lash out in the night, hit you with my– the arm. I still get nightmares, you know. Bad dreams. Really bad ones.” he sounded like he was warning you, almost discouraging you from even thinking about sharing your bed with him.

You smiled weakly and sympathetically. “Hey, me too.” A night without a terrible dream was a treat, and they were still frequent so long after leaving the Red Room and your days as an assassin. Horrible, distorted dreams plagued your sleeping nights. You weren’t even sure which of them were actual memories, and which were just fabricated.

His face softened. Now he was an arms length away, and closer to the bed than you. Playfully, you closed the distance and pushed your hand against his chest. He toppled down onto the mattress, despite the fact that you knew he was just humouring you; if he hadn't wanted to move, he wouldn't have. It was a good sign, the physical contact. It was a sign of one of his many walls lowering.

After slipping into the ensuite to throw on some sleeping clothes, you reemerged to be met with Bucky in a baggy shirt and grey sweatpants. You instantly recognised the shirt as one of Steve’s, before blushing at the fact that you had  _ also  _ stolen a shirt from Steve, and were wearing it. It was strangely cute, the two of you in Steve’s clothes. He held such a special place in both of your hearts.

“Which side of the bed?” Bucky asked, but he was already on the left; the side closest to the door.

“Right.” you nodded, not failing to notice the small wash of relief that crossed Bucky’s face at your answer. You were too familiar with the instinctual habit of checking every room for windows and exits. That was one thing you’d just barely broken out of, making you comfortable with sleeping on the right hand side tonight for Bucky’s sake.

He slid onto the bed as you closed the curtains, but his back was up against the headboard, and his eyes were on you.

“Everything okay?” you asked worriedly, perching on your side of the bed.

“Yeah, I just like to, uh, read, before bed. Is that okay? It just settles me into a better headspace.”

“Depends what you’re reading.” you grinned cheesily and pulled the covers up over your stomach, as Bucky stretched to reach his bag on the floor by the bed. 

The cover was a rusty yellow, the pages well worn and dog eared. You leaned forward to catch the title of the novel that Bucky was now clutching self consciously.

“ _ The Stand? _ ”

“I’m catching up. On novels that I… missed. Colonel Rhodes gave me a list of ‘modern classics’, there was a  _ lot  _ of this Stephen King guy.” his lips curved into an amused smile, and something about his open physicality and speech made you feel warm.

You didn’t mind sleeping with the light on, and the sound of Bucky’s breathing just next to you was caught you off guard as rather calming. Absently, you feel asleep to the sound of him flipping the pages, feeling more safe in a hotel than you ever had before.

That didn’t last long.

Cold metal winded you abruptly, snatching the air from your lungs in the darkness before you could even think about crying out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is un-beta'd pls reserve judgement for faults xo  
> also sorry it's a little short ! im just v perfectionist about how i split chapters up and where i start/end them so that's why chapter lengths are a little sporadic

Scrambling from the bed, you flung yourself onto the wall and away from Bucky. He was upright in bed, his eyes dark and his breathing ragged. Violently, he swung his metal arm back, crunching against the wall and making you flinch from shock.

“Bucky?” your voice came out so much quieter than you’d intended. His eyes found yours, but showed no recognition. All that was reflected back at you was anger and darkness. 

You had nothing to protect yourself with, and you’d never been with Bucky during one of his night terrors. You could’ve gotten Steve, but leaving Bucky alone was a scary thought. Bucky’s brainwashing had been extensive and intense; you had no idea how idea how to shake him out of Winter Soldier mode--you’d only ever been told how it was triggered.

Bucky got off the bed with the veins in his arms popping as he flexed, fixing his path towards you again. The room was small; within moments he was close enough to swing at you, fist clenched. Metal met plaster again as you dodged his blow, running towards the other side of the room. You were backed up against the ensuite, wondering when someone would come check on you both because of the noise.

The metal of Bucky’s arm creaked. He grabbed a lamp, ripping off the shade and tearing the wire to use it like a baton. Glass shattered next to your head as you side stepped his hit a little too late, sending shards into the skin on your face and arms. 

“Bucky, enough!” you shouted, pushing his shoulders back with all your force, hoping to switch your positions. But cold metal grabbed your arm, twisting it back until pain surged through you. “Wake the fuck up!”

“я проснулся.”  _ I am awake _ .

You kicked your left knee up, hitting him in the gut and using his minute moment of weakness to rip your body free. Grabbing the ensuite’s door handle, you slammed it against Bucky, almost ripping it off the hinges. You were breathing hard, praying for a little help, as you opened up the shower and grabbed the shower head off the hook. 

From what you’d heard about night terrors, and what you knew about your own, waking someone from one was a dangerous game. Usually, a gentle nudge would suffice if the person  _ wasn’t  _ being violent. Being aggressive with the sleeper might make them see you as an attacker in their dreamstate. But not waking Bucky right now wasn’t exactly an option. 

Spinning the dial on the shower, you aimed the head at Bucky just as he stepped towards you, hosing him down at full blast. 

It was a risky move. Splashing someone with cold water always seemed to shake people out of dazes and dreams in fiction; it seemed like it was worth a shot.

Bucky’s face contorted as his shirt became soaked through, and he stumbled back, blinking furiously. You kept the hose trained on him, the floor becoming rapidly flooded and you could only hope it wouldn’t start to seep through to the floor below.

There was silence except for the flow of water, which you’d turned down as Bucky’s movements had become sluggish and slow.

“Hey,” you treaded carefully, trying to catch his eyes. He looked wounded and lost, like a shaggy puppy. “How are you feeling?”

A few slow blinks, and Bucky’s head tilted up to you finally. Panic warped his expression.

“Y/N?” he choked, scrubbing his face with his hand as droplets dripped off his hair onto the soaked floor.

You nodded vigorously, forcing a smile onto your face despite your panic.

“Fuck,” Bucky cursed and curled in on himself as he stumbled away, out of the door frame and into the bedroom. He collapsed on the end of the bed with his head in his hands. His demeanour made your chest feel constricted--tight, as if someone was squeezing on your lungs. Seeing him this way was almost worse than seeing him as the Winter Soldier. Part of you could sympathise, but your past traumas were both too hard to compare, really. Bucky was fighting his battle alone; that’s what he thought.

Perching on the side of the bed beside him, you tested out how much space to leave between you. He seemed unphased by your appearance, and you shuffled a little closer until he was less than an arms length away. The bed was damp from Bucky’s clothes, but it was the least of your concerns.

“Everything’s alright.” you muttered.

“The room’s trashed, Y/N.”

He wasn’t wrong. “You  _ know  _ we can pay to fix everything. It’ll be as if we were never here.”

“Cause money makes everything go away.” he mumbled into his palm.

With caution, you tenderly placed a hand on his shoulder, and were relieved when he didn’t flinch away.

“I hurt you. It could’ve been so much worse. They should just lock me away. I’m a danger to everyone.”

You angled him towards you slightly with the hand on his shoulder. “Absolutely not. You’re no danger to me. You don’t think I can handle it? Because I think I just did.”

Bucky tore his hands away from his face to look at you, raw vulnerability in his eyes. “I didn’t think you’d want to.”

_ I do _ , your heart whispered before your mind could catch up--you wanted to be there for him, to be able to support and help him through his recovery, to be able to make even the smallest impact on the improvement of his well being. Together, you could help each other through a recovery which at times had seemed impossible. 

Your hand moved slowly to the curve of his neck, your thumb rubbing soft circles. Bucky’s face flickered with confusion, but his body leaned into your touch. Gently, he placed his flesh hand on your waist, tilting towards you as your knees knocked together.

“Don’t assume what I do and don’t think.” you murmured, your heart not in your words as the sudden closeness of Bucky kept you distracted. His fingers flexed against your skin as he held you in his grip, pulling you gradually closer until a bead of water from his hair fell onto the exposed skin of your knee.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” his words were spoken against the nape of your neck as he planted a delicate and cautious kiss there, as if he were testing the waters. You involuntarily shivered at the touch of his lips, pushing your body closer to his.

“ _ Bucky _ ,” you groaned, “you just--”  _ almost tried to kill me _ , but the sentence was caught in your throat as he gained the confidence to wrap his metal arm around the other side of your waist, swinging you up onto his lap. The sudden cool touch sent your skin crawling with goosebumps, your legs settling on either side of his waist like it was the most natural thing. It wasn't that you were reeling too much after what had just happened, you were more worried about what Bucky was feeling after it all.

“I don’t want to talk.” he said against the edge of your jaw. 

“But we  _ should _ .” you insisted halfheartedly, your hands wrapping themselves up in his hair.

Bucky’s eyelashes fluttered against your cheek, his fingers scratching your waist rhythmically. “I have some better ideas.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "it's alive!" you all scream in shock and horror as I update for the first time in a month. been M.I.A with university as I just started! started to get back into the swing of writing though I hope/think, touch wood lmao  
> un-beta'd cause im lazy and italics are flashbacks if that wasn't clear, sorry it's kinda short I SUCK I KNOW but i hope yall got what u wanted ;)) i suck at smut and this isn't even explicit so let me know what u think/what i need to improve lmao but anyway.... dont expect it to all be fluff from here on,,,

Upon stirring from your sleep, you rolled right into a coolness that made you jolt back to your sense. The icy metal on the other side of the bed belonged to Bucky; you rubbed the sleep from your eyes as you recalled last night's events. What had started with innocent bed sharing had escalated into something  _ much  _ more. Flashes spun round in your head. Shattered glass, soaked clothes, naked bodies.

Fuck. The heels of your palms massaged your temples, and you looked over hesitantly at the body beside you. Bucky’s hair was loose and sprawled across his pillow, his back to you and his covers almost entirely kicked off, revealing--a lot. A hot flush spread through your body. Not lingering on the toned definition of his muscles (the curves of his body, the scars that littered it) proved difficult, and you felt vaguely guilty.

Had last night been wrong? Bucky had been so out of it during his night terror. Should they have just gone back to bed? But it was what  _ Bucky  _ wanted-- and what you had wanted, which had surprised you. 

He made a muffled noise against the pillow and your heart clenched, hesitantly reaching out a hand to wrap around his bicep. You traced small circles in the smooth of his skin, watching as his body rose and fell with his slow breaths.

_ Any objections you may have had got caught in your throat as Bucky pressed forward into you, his lips latching onto yours with his hands tangled in your hair. It was as if you’d been starving without knowing; each pause for air left you hungry for more, for Bucky’s touch to override your senses.  _

_ Your clothes were becoming damp from the contact with his soaked through ones. “Here,” you muttered, wrapping your hands around the hem of Bucky’s shirt, inching it off his chest gently. Want and need had your hands roaming curiously across his pecs and shoulders as you revelled in the sensation of his kiss on your collarbones. _

_ He mirrored you, pulling off your night shirt and discarding it on the floor out of sight. The way he took in your form didn’t allow for a chance to feel self conscious. Your grin slipped into a soft groan as one of his palms massaged your breasts, the other--the metal arm--held your waist tightly to him, the cool metal sending shivers through your body that mingled with the waves of pleasure.  _

Your grip accidentally tightened a fraction at the memory, and Bucky flinched into consciousness. He rolled over to face your frozen expression. What was the protocol for the morning after a night like that? If only he wasn’t so unreadable, you’d be able to gage a suitable reaction to the situation. Bucky was leaning on his right side now, and you stared unmoving as he reached his metal hand tentatively towards you. The feel of it caused goosebumps to appear across your skin, the coolness stroking along your forearm just light enough to register. Your eyes were glued onto his despite his gaze now being directed at his own movements, as if his arm would suddenly take charge and have a life of its own.

On a whim, you took his weaponised hand in your own, bringing the fingers up to your lips. His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t stop you. Gently, you pressed your lips to the top of each of his metallic fingers, refusing to let him pull away out of fear for you. You weren’t scared.

_ Bucky’s intensity was infamous, and evidently mirrored across all of his expenditures. Your push and pull dynamic wound you further and further up, filling you with the need of having him closer. You pulled him backwards and he trapped you against the bed between his arms and his body, his lips refusing to leave your skin. His arm reached between your bodies to wrestle your legs free of the clothes on your lower half, and you helped him eagerly. You could feel him against your crotch, one of his legs wedged between your own until your wrapped them around his waist to bring him down closer to you. Teasing, he wound you up and pulled you undone with the fluid motions of his hand of flesh and bone, loving the way you bucked against him. _

“I’m not scared of you.” it was a whisper, but a determined and self assured one, spoken against the palm of his metal hand,

“So you say.” his morning voice had you curling your toes to stifle the want in your body. “I would be. If I were you.”

“Good thing you’re not,” you hummed, pulling his arm over your torso. “You couldn’t pull off this haircut."

He snorted, lips stretching ever so slightly into a smile. Cautiously, he relaxed around you.

“Is this what you want?” 

Bucky’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?” the worry--the self conscious panic--in his voice was evident and caused your chest to tighten guiltily.

“Are you happy? Like this; with us like this.” You couldn’t help but wonder if this is what he envisioned when he’d confessed his feelings to you way back when. Probably not.

He shuffled, bringing you closer into his embrace so your noses almost bumped against each other. “You know I worry about your safety around me, Y/N. But second to that is my worry about you when I’m  _ not  _ around. Having you with me here, and like  _ this _ , how can I be unhappy?”

You ducked your head against his chest in order to hide the smile taking over your face. Swiftly, he swung you over and on top of him, bringing his lips towards yours.

_ “Yes, like that,” you moaned eagerly at the rhythm he’d set, finger nails dragging against his scarred skin. Both of you were scarred; thin red lines, remains of infected wounds, crisscrossed markings, they littered your bodies. You wanted to kiss every inch of his skin, taking the time to memorise the patterns on his body.  _

_ When you turned the tables, switching so you were on top, Bucky didn’t argue. Both of his hands palmed your ass, pulling you closer (if that was possible). You arched your back, raking your nails against his pecs and stomach as you rode the wave of pleasure coursing through you both. The sheets were crumpled and soaked through with the water from the shower. His rough hands raked up and down your body, tracing the curves of your hips and the mounds of your ass as he guided you through the increasingly intense pooling of heat in your gut.  _

“What, round two?” you arched an eyebrow at him.

“Why do I need to go for breakfast when you’re right here, doll? I don’t think I’ll ever go hungry again.”

You cringed, but couldn’t suppress the smile pulling at your lips. “Corny ass,” you brushed off, punching his right shoulder.

Bucky shrugged, “what do you expect from a 100 years or so year old man?”

“Yeah, but they weren’t all filthy mouthed. I thought the 40s were a time of  _ conservative values _ .” you teased, trying to ignore Bucky’s kisses at the nape of your neck.

He muttered something against your skin, but you couldn’t quite make it out when the feeling of his warm hand against your chest disrupted your concentration. 

Seeing him like this almost made you feel fuzzy. He was so open, so exposed and laid bare to you. You weren’t sure what you’d done to deserve his affections in such a way, but you were happy you’d gotten to this place and wouldn’t mind staying there. You were learning every side of him, and you liked it all.

“Hmm,” a soft, pleasurable noise slipped from your mouth just before you tilted his head up to you, “you might be happy to stay here forever, but I’m starving. Food?” 

The super soldier shrugged his shoulders as he gave in, hoisting you off his lap. His hands lingered, “shower first? So we don’t obviously reek of last night.”

Laughing, you pushed yourself off the bed and dragged him up with you. “Probably wise. Although I have a feeling Sam has a sixth sense for this kind of stuff.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments fuel me my lovelies<33

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think! i am fuelled by comments and kudos xo  
> hmu on tumblr stacygwehn.tumblr.com


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